Tuesday, September 06, 2005

the balance beam is a cold mother

i love the taste of my own blood.

how come when you rip the palms of your hands the skin peels off white and not pink? i used to tear the rips off with my teeth and lick the blood off my palms. it tasted like iron and chalk and the wood of the uneven bars.

i kept on going until my blood was smeared all over the bars smeared all over the lower bar smeared into the chalk i could feel the air on new skin before it smacked the upper bar, catching it, stinging. hurt me. i love you.

i didn't love the balance beam. the balance beam. what a fucking bitch. there was nothing to wrap your palms around and curl your fingers over there was nothing to hold on to. i couldn't fly on the balance beam.

hand over hand foot over foot. going backwards is easy. throw my head back and watch my hands fall tuck my chin and see my feet. hand hand foot foot. front handsprings were harder. i can't see my feet i have no idea where my feet are where the fuck are my feet.

when i was nine years old i split the beam. hand hand foot foot. hand hand i'm off the beam right foot i'm on it, on the edge of it, a blunt edge sending sparks through my nerves and my other foot, where the fuck was my other foot, my legs splayed out and my other foot i don't even know where it went. to the other side of the beam. i slammed down hard legs dangling on either side and i slumped over the beam, my forehead against the cool roughness of the balance beam, that bitch.

my heart belonged to the uneven bars but it was the balance beam that popped my cherry.

little girls rip their hands and chalk back up and keep going but nobody wants to think about a little girl's bleeding vagina so i either got to sit on the edge of the trampoline totally useless or walk home gingerly and bow legged as if i'd fucked a horse. i stopped at dominicks and got some lemonheads. when my mom came to pick me up i wasn't there but i was home when she got home, watching tv, miserable with a bunch of toilet paper wadded up between my legs.

i told her i hurt myself. she didn't believe me. she thought i got my period. oh that's so cute, little erin got her period. little nine year old erin got her period four years early probably due to the fucking growth hormones in all the milk she drinks, how fucking cute. my brother came in my room and said so i heard you got your period. I DID NOT! i was in pain and furious.

what an insult. i was a wounded veteran. not a childbearing woman. not a fucking childbearing woman! i cried like only a nine year old girl can. hot and furious with clenched teeth. like a nine year old gymnast that tasted failure and was accused of growing up.
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